


And If I Recover (Will You Be My Comfort)

by Kapua



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Post-Canon, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24982252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kapua/pseuds/Kapua
Summary: Picks up post-Sodden.There are feelings and bed sharing and bathing and all the great tropes you might want to see in a relatively tame oneshot between these two.
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 21
Kudos: 149





	And If I Recover (Will You Be My Comfort)

**Author's Note:**

> I made the mistake of looking for fic of this ship right after the show came out and there was nada. And so I forgot about them until I happily stumbled across a fic a few days ago, and of course I then promptly read every. single. fic. on ao3 with these two. They're smoldering, and I love it, and felt compelled to contribute to the fandom. Hope you enjoy!

Yennefer moves soundlessly down the hallway of the keep. The stone floor is cold underneath her bare feet; she hadn't known where to find shoes and hadn't wanted to delay in order to search for them.

Her chaos thrums just below the surface, tugging her down the hall at a slightly faster clip than before. She stops abruptly when she reaches an unassuming wooden door. Her fingers brush against the worn surface as she tries to imagine what she'll find on the other side. 

Something in this castle has been calling to her ever since she awoke here, weak and alone after Sodden. Her injuries are healed but she can't get anyone to tell her anything about, well, anything. The servants who bring her meals each day refuse to speak to her, scurrying in and out of the room as quickly as possible, and it's been enraging to have to lie in bed not knowing what became of her friends. 

Much as she would have liked to leap from the bed and set off to get answers, the sheer exhaustion settled in her bones convinced her to bide her time for a day or two. It’s taken three days to be able to take more than ten steps from her bed without her knees giving way, but now that she's up and moving she has no intention of squandering the opportunity.

She doesn't feel any magic or wards on the door, but she's still cautious as she pushes it open. The hinges squeak a little, just enough to make her wince, but nothing else happens and she steps into the room. 

The first thing she notices is the very large, four-poster bed in the center of the room. The second is the tiny form lying deathly still in it. Something about the shape is familiar, and Yennefer feels a tug of foreboding as she draws closer. It only takes a few steps before she can glimpse the sharp line of a pale jaw, the face coming into focus and knocking the breath from her lungs.

_"Tissaia."_

The name falls from her lips like a prayer as she runs the last few feet to the bedside and drops to her knees beside it. The woman stirs, a faint frown creasing her forehead. Her breathing is labored and comes in rough gasps, and her eyes a clouded when they blink open.

"Yennefer?" Her voice is weak and raspy, and Yennefer's heart breaks a little at how uncertain the older mage sounds. "Are you really here?"

"I'm here, Tissaia," she whispers. Her hand reaches out as if controlled by some other entity and cradles Tissaia's cheek in her palm. The gesture reminds her of the way Tissaia had held her face on the battlefield and sends a jolt of _something_ through her chest. Blue eyes clear a little at the contact, looking more like the Rectoress Yennefer knows so well.

"Silly girl. You should be resting," Tissaia chides, but there's no bite to the words. If anything, the way they coast out of her mouth on a gasping breath makes Yennefer even more certain that this is exactly where she needs to be. The fact that she's suddenly terrified for the fate of the woman she's claimed to hate for the better part of her life feels irrelevant.

"What's happened?" she asks, letting her thumb stroke Tissaia's cheek. "Why aren't you healed?"

"Dimeritium," comes the pained response, and Yennefer's heart constricts. That is far beyond her capabilities to heal—likely far beyond the capabilities of nearly any mage alive, save perhaps the one currently curled in the bed before her. "I've sent Triss to gather what's needed," Tissaia continues, as if reading Yennefer's mind. "The materials she brings should be sufficient to purge the dimeritium from my body."

The unspoken _if she makes it back in time_ lingers in the air and Yennefer shakes her head. Can't think about that. Instead chooses to focus on the other part of what was said.

"Triss is alive?"

Tissaia nods. "Yes. And Sabrina, too. I'm not certain on anyone else. I've been...slightly indisposed." She lifts a hand to wave weakly at her current position. A coughing fit wracks her body, and she turns her face away from Yennefer's hand and into the pillow to muffle it. When it's finally over Yennefer sees spots of bright red blood on the pillow as Tissaia rolls over, her eyes now closed.

Yennefer kneels in silence, not sure what to do. Every fiber of her being screams at her to do something, _anything_ to help ease Tissaia's pain, but she doesn't know how. She settles for standing and dragging the chair from the corner of the room over to the bed, sitting down somewhat heavily when the task is done. Her body is still recovering, and so much movement after lying in bed for days on end has drained her. She reaches out and takes Tissaia's hand, squeezing gently when the mage's eyes open to look at her curiously.

Yennefer doesn't say anything in answer to the questioning gaze, just settles more comfortably in her chair. There's something approaching gratitude in Tissaia's eyes before they slide shut, and Yennefer prays that Triss returns soon.

###

She wakes to the creaky door hinges and twists in the chair, her hand already half-raised should she need to dispatch anyone who means them ill. Instead, she sees one of the servants staring back at her in terror. She lowers her hand with a sigh and waves them the rest of the way into the room. They set down a tray of stew with a loaf of bread on the side and hesitate.

"Go."

Yennefer's voice leaves no room for argument, and the servant scurries away. She turns her attention to Tissaia and sees the other woman awake and watching her with a faint curl to her lips.

"What?" she asks peevishly, but Tissaia just shakes her head. Yennefer moves the tray so that it's perched on the side of the bed and pauses. She's not sure if Tissaia can feed herself, but she doesn't want to ask for fear of insulting her. 

After a few seconds she thinks _fuck it_. If Tissaia wants to be irritated then that's her prerogative. Yennefer slides a hand behind the other woman's back and bites her lip when she feels how frail she is. The knobs in her spine press into Yennefer's hand as she eases her into a sitting position. 

For her part, Tissaia's lips thin and it's clear that the movement is painful, but she doesn't say anything. 

When Yennefer is satisfied that the Rectoress is propped up on the pillows and won't slide back down, she lifts the bowl of stew and grabs the spoon. Tissaia arches an eyebrow at her. 

"I can't trust you not to spill all over yourself and the bed, and I'd just as soon not have the servants after my head," Yennefer grumbles, avoiding eye contact. It's a weak excuse and they both know it. The idea of Yennefer being cowed by a servant is ludicrous. But neither of them says anything about it, and Yennefer spoons some stew into Tissaia's mouth.

She only manages a few spoonfuls before another coughing fit comes on. It twists her body until she's curled in on herself, trembling and shaking with the force of the coughs and gasping for air.

"Breathe, Tissaia," Yennefer murmurs, stew long forgotten. She rests a hand on the center of Tissaia's back and feels it heaving with each cough. She can't recall ever feeling quite this powerless. When long minutes pass and Tissaia still can't seem to catch her breath, Yennefer stands and makes to leave. There has to be _someone_ in this godforsaken castle who can do something to ease the woman's misery. A weak hand catches her wrist before she can take more than a single step, and she looks down in confusion.

"Don't...go." The words are laboured and so quiet she has to strain to hear them, but Yennefer stills. 

"Tissaia, I need to find someone who can help—"

The older woman cuts her off with a minute shake of her head. "No...help. Stay."

Yennefer wants to argue. She wants to scream at Tissaia that there has to be something that can help, because she's not allowed to die. But instead she reluctantly sits back down in the chair and shifts her wrist until her fingers are twined with Tissaia's again. Unexpected tears well in her eyes and she blinks them back angrily. 

Tissaia's breathing is still rough, but she's not coughing anymore so Yennefer will take it as a win. The older woman's eyes are closed and Yennefer thinks she might have fallen back asleep until she speaks.

"Thank you."

The quiet words float between them and Yennefer blinks. Whatever she'd thought the Rectoress might say, that was certainly not it. 

"For what?" she asks unsteadily, cursing the faint tremble in her voice.

Tissaia opens her eyes and stares at Yennefer for a long moment. "For saving me. I'm sorry..." her voice trails off and she breaks eye contact. 

Yennefer shushes her gently. On impulse, she leans forward until she can press her forehead against Tissaia's. It mirrors the moment from the battlefield, and for a brief second she simply relishes in being close to the other woman and feeling the warmth of her skin. Tissaia's eyes slide closed again and her breathing quiets as the moment stretches on.

"I meant what I said," Yennefer finally says, her voice impossibly tender. Feelings are swirling through her that she can't put a name to, but it seems absolutely vital that she makes sure the older sorceress understands she has nothing to be sorry for. "You saved me. And not just from that pigsty."

Tissaia's eyes are open again, and she's staring at Yennefer with a searching expression. 

"You've done nothing wrong," Yennefer whispers. "I'm the one who should be sorry, for making everything so difficult." She laughs, but it comes out as a half-sob, and Tissaia shakes her head.

"No," she says, "You wouldn't be the powerful, brilliant, stubborn sorceress you are if you took the easy path. I only wish..." she hesitates, and her voice grows sad. "I only wish I had been able to show you how important you are to me before we were out of time."

The phrase lands in Yennefer's chest like a blow. Echoes of a past conversation swim through her mind. _I dreamed of becoming important to someone._ She doesn't—can't—say anything for a moment. The thought of everything she'd always dreamt of having been right in front of her for so long is making her head spin. And then she catches up to the final part of Tissaia's sentence.

"No." The word comes out harsher than she'd meant, but she can't help it. "We're not out of time, Tissaia. Not yet."

The older woman regards her with an inscrutable expression. "And even if we aren't, what then? You're here now, but I fear when the chaos of battle eases and you're able to think more clearly, you'll remember that you hate me."

Yennefer reels back as if struck. Tissaia's eyes are sad, but resigned and accepting. The younger sorceress tries to find words to tell the Rectoress just how wrong she is, that maybe there had once been some small seed of hate but that it's grown into something altogether different now. 

Nothing comes to mind, and she sees the older mage's eyes start to close, taking the silence as confirmation, and she moves without thinking. Her head tilts down and she surges forward to press her lips against Tissaia's. She moves gently, mindful of how weak the other woman is, but doesn't retreat even as she feels her tense. 

After a few seconds, Tissaia sighs and relaxes into the kiss all at once, and Yennefer could cry with how right it feels. Their lips slide carefully, tenderly, for a few minutes until Yennefer reluctantly pulls back. She can taste the slight copper tang left from the earlier coughing fit, and it's a terrifying reminder of how fragile this new thing between them truly is. 

She settles for returning to their prior position with foreheads resting against one another, breathing each other's air. There's a hint of a smile on Tissaia's face and Yennefer feels a surge of pride at being responsible for putting it there. 

"I don't hate you. Far from it, actually." She whispers the words against Tissaia's lips, praying that the other woman can hear the sincerity in them. Neither of them is built for grand declarations of love. This brief exchange of words— _you're important to me_ and _far from it—_ is more than she would ever have expected possible. She worries that Tissaia must genuinely think that she's dying to be willing to verbalize her feelings so explicitly, and the thought that they might find something so precious only to have it ripped away again guts her.

Tissaia hums in response to Yennefer's declaration, but she doesn't say anything else, just sags back against the pillows. Yennefer moves to rearrange herself on the chair, and for the second time a hand on her wrist stops her.

She looks at Tissaia, trying to read her intent, and the other woman shifts to make room on the bed. A grin creeps across Yennefer's face and she arches an eyebrow.

"Why Tissaia, trying to get me into your bed already?" 

The comment earns her a swat on the arm, but she's already halfway into the bed by that point. She shifts so that her body is molded against Tissaia's, and after a moment's debate she carefully wraps an arm around the older woman. She's struck once again by how small Tissaia is, and how vulnerable. The thought makes her flinch and she tightens her hold to reassure herself that the other mage is still here, still alive.

_For the moment._ Her traitorous brain makes her freeze with the thought, but before she can go further down that path a light touch on her cheek brings her back to the moment. 

"Stop thinking so hard," Tissaia murmurs. "It's making it very difficult to sleep."

Yennefer wants to scoff and snap off a snarky retort, but instead she just sighs and presses a soft kiss to the other mage's hairline. She focuses on the sporadic in and out of Tissaia's chest, reassuring herself that the woman is still alive. Despite her best efforts, she's rapidly sliding closer to falling asleep. She wanted to stay awake to keep watch over Tissaia, but she figures that her current position means she'll wake if anything happens. Yennefer nuzzles a little closer to Tissaia, and lets herself drift off.

###

It's the trembling that jolts her awake. The faint light of the moon fills the room, and Yennefer glances down at Tissaia and sees her face twisted in a pained expression.

"Tissaia, wake up," she murmurs, gently shaking the other woman. Her heart picks up speed when she doesn't get a response. "Tissaia!"

The older mage doesn't open her eyes, just curls in on herself as she shivers. Yennefer reaches out to touch her and gasps when she feels her skin. It's ice cold. 

"Tissaia, please," she says, not caring how close to begging she sounds. "You need to open your eyes and tell me what's wrong."

When Tissaia still doesn't react, panic jolts through the younger sorceress. Her eyes scan the room for extra blankets, and she hastily piles them on the bed. Even through the bulky coverings, she can make out the vibrations from Tissaia's shivering, and she crawls under the mountain of blankets to press the length of her body alongside the older woman's. 

The chill from Tissaia's body cuts through the thin cloth of Yennefer's gown in a matter of seconds, but she grits her teeth and presses closer. She knows instinctually that if she can't find a way to interrupt whatever is happening that the Rectoress will die.

A sudden change in the air pressure of the room causes her hackles to go up. Someone just entered using a portal, but she can't see anything past the blankets. She refuses to let go of Tissaia, wraps her arms around her even tighter, and prays that whoever has come doesn't mean any harm.

"Yennefer?"

_Triss._

A wave of relief washes over her when she hears the voice. If the healer is here, then they might still be able to save Tissaia. In lieu of answering the questioning tone from the other mage, Yennefer lifts herself off of Tissaia just enough to make eye contact.

"Please tell me you've got whatever it is she sent you for."

"I do."

"Then do whatever it is you need to do. She doesn't have long."

To her credit, Triss gets to work without another word. She does cast an occasional curious glance at the two women twined in the bed, but keeps her thoughts to herself. There are bigger things to worry about than Yennefer behaving like the Rectoress is her personal pillow.

She calls for a bath to be brought to the room. While the water heats, she mixes various herbs and other ingredients together and adds them to the tub. Yennefer looks over every few minutes to check the progress, but most of her attention is fixed on the woman in her arms. Tissaia is still shivering, and her lips have gone blue.

"Just a little longer," Yennefer begs, whispering the words into her hair. "Don't give in."

"It's ready." Triss stands next to the steaming tub. "She needs to be placed in the water."

Yennefer peels herself away from Tissaia and gently lifts her from the bed. The Rectoress is light in her arms, and she carries her to the tub before carefully lowering her into the water clothes and all. 

"What happens now?" she asks, not taking her eyes from the tub.

"The additives in the water will draw the dimeritium from her body," Triss says. 

"And then she'll be healed?"

Triss hesitates a beat too long and Yennefer looks over at her in alarm. 

"It might..." she searches for the words. "She might be too weak, Yen. This will fix the dimeritium, but her body might be too damaged to recover, even with other healing aids."

Yennefer closes her eyes for a moment. She wants this to be the fix, the thing that cures Tissaia, and she decides she'll will it to be so through sheer force of will.

They watch Tissaia in the bath as the minutes tick into hours. Triss occasionally reheats the water with whispered words, stirring the tub's contents to circulate them around Tissaia's body. 

At some point the chair from the bedside is moved closer, and Triss sits in it to monitor the progression. Yennefer refuses to leave the side of the tub. The stone floor makes her knees ache from kneeling, and Triss repeatedly offers her the chair, but she can't bear to be even that much farther away from Tissaia. 

She rests her head against the cool edge of the metal tub and wishes she could reach for one of Tissaia's hands. They're both submerged in the water so she contents herself with frequent glances at the older mage's face to see if there's any change.

After two hours pass, Tissaia finally stops shivering. Her face smooths out into a more neutral expression, though she doesn't wake, and Yennefer breathes a sigh of relief.

"It's working," she says quietly. Triss nods and points at the water. The liquid has turned a cloudy brown.

"The additives bind the dimeritium," Triss explains. "It's a good sign, given how much of the substance she seems to have been inundated with."

Anger flares in Yennefer's gut as she wonders for the first time how Tissaia came to be attacked with dimeritium. It hadn't been important enough to waste breath on, but now she can't stop thinking about it. It's not a common element, and certainly not something that is easy to obtain in large quantities or in a way that can be weaponized. She tucks the questions away for the moment and looks over at Triss. The healer looks absolutely exhausted.

"Why don't you go get some sleep?" she asks. "I'll keep an eye on Tissaia." When Triss starts to protest, Yennefer sighs. "You can use the bed right there, if it makes you feel better to be close. But you won't be any good to her if you're dead on your feet from lack of sleep."

Triss begrudgingly rises and heads for the bed. She all but falls into it and Yennefer smiles as her breathing evens out into sleep within minutes. She can't control much right now, but she can at least make sure that Triss doesn't run herself into the ground.

She goes back to focusing on Tissaia and the way the other woman's chest rises and falls. Her breathing is coming easier now, and Yennefer allows herself the small luxury of reaching out and brushing an errant strand of hair from Tissaia's face, tucking it behind her ear.

"Don't go."

Yennefer startles and stops, her hand hovering over Tissaia's skin.

"Thank the gods," she breathes, relief pounding through her like a flood of cool spring water. She leans closer and wraps Tissaia in her arms, uncaring that water from the other mage's clothing promptly soaks her own. "I thought—" She stops. Speaking the words aloud makes them real in a way that terrifies her, but Tissaia's eyes are open now, and she's watching Yennefer with a question in her steady gaze.

"I thought I might have lost you," she finally finishes. Tissaia's expression turns impossibly tender and she gifts Yennefer with a half-smile.

"Losing implies having to begin with," she says with a gentle teasing tone. "Have you had me, Yennefer?"

The younger sorceress shakes her head. She'd been a bit nervous that Tissaia would pretend nothing had changed between them, but clearly that's not the case. If the older mage wants to tease, well, two can play at that game. She pitches her voice lower in that way that she knows turns it into an irresistible timbre and gives Tissaia a long look. "Not in half the ways I'd like to, Tissaia."

She's rewarded for her efforts with a faint blush crawling up the other woman's chest and neck, and she throws in a saucy wink for good measure. Tissaia chuckles at that and leans back against the edge of the tub. 

"I'm afraid your many ideas will have to wait a bit longer, though I'm sure they're very imaginative," she drawls. Yennefer nods, understanding that their interaction has taken what little energy Tissaia has for the moment. She eases her arms away but lets her fingers linger on Tissaia's forearm where it floats just on the surface of the water. 

"Rest now," she whispers. "I'll be right here if you need me."

A quiet hum is the only response she gets, and her head falls forward to rest against the edge of the tub once more. Seeing Tissaia conscious and able to speak has eased something within her, and her eyes slide closed. The faint warmth of Tissaia's skin against her hand is a potent reminder that the other woman is alive and healing, and Yennefer drifts into a light sleep, content in the knowledge that Tissaia is only inches away.

###

"Yennefer."

The sound of her name pulls Yennefer back to the land of the waking and she blinks. Morning light streams through the window, and she stretches a little, wincing as her neck cracks. 

"I could have told you that would happen, sleeping contorted on the floor like that," Tissaia says, and Yennefer blinks as she takes in the other woman. She's sitting upright in the tub, and while she's still pale her eyes are bright and clear and there's no sign of the telltale rasp that's plagued her breathing the last few days. The water in the tub is pitch black and Yennefer's eyes widen at the sight of it.

"Now, if you're done gawking, would you be so kind as to wake Triss for me? I'd like to have a proper bath, now that it seems this one has served its purpose."

Yennefer glances over at the bed. Triss is sprawled across is sound asleep, and she makes a quick decision.

"I'll do it."

Tissaia raises an eyebrow, and Yennefer nods for good measure. "Triss is wrung out from last night, and I want to let her rest while she can. It's just a bath, no need to wake her for that."

She's not nearly as confident as she sounds. In fact, as her mind processes what she's just volunteered for she feels nerves crawl across her skin when she realizes that helping Tissaia with a bath means seeing the other woman naked. It sounds torturous, but she's too proud to back down from the challenging look the older woman is giving her, and she stands and goes to the hall to call for a second tub to be brought to the room. 

In a matter of minutes, there's a fresh tub of steaming water sitting next to the one Tissaia is in. Yennefer looks back at Triss, still asleep on the bed, and wonders just how tired the healer is to have slept through the clanking of the bath being arranged. Regardless, she's stuck with bath duty now. 

It's not that it's an inconvenience or a terrible trial, to see Tissaia naked and help wash her—the exact opposite, in fact. Yennefer wants more than anything to see the other mage in her full glory, and therein lies the problem. Keeping her innuendos and wandering eyes to a reasonable amount already feels like an insurmountable task and they haven't even started.

"Well, best get you up and out of your clothes," Yennefer says with a sigh. She helps Tissaia stand in the tub. Black water runs off of her in tiny rivulets and she shivers in the cool air. She's only wearing a thin sleeping gown with a robe over top of it. Whether she has anything else on underneath is as-yet unknown.

The robe comes off easily. Yennefer eases it from her shoulders and sets it in a soggy heap on the floor next to the tub. She pauses as she kneels before Tissaia and grasps the hem of her sleeping gown, wanting to make sure that she's not crossing any lines. Tissaia looks down at her, kneeling on the stone floor and staring up with soft eyes, and something dark and wanting flashes through the older mage's gaze. It's gone in an instant, but the fact that it was there at all makes Yennefer shiver. 

"Are you going to have me stand here all day?" 

The question is asked teasingly, and it jolts Yennefer from her thoughts. She lifts the hem of the sleeping gown and slowly stands as she bunches the fabric in her hands and raises it above Tissaia's head. Her eyes dip down only once, just long enough to glimpse that Tissaia did not, in fact, have any underclothes on under the gown, before she jerks them back up as she drops the sleeping gown on top of the robe. 

"Wouldn't have taken you for the type to enjoy a breeze under your gown," she comments, trying to recover her footing by returning to the well-known and relatively safe territory of their banter.

Tissaia rolls her eyes and doesn't bother dignifying that with a response. Yennefer holds her hands out in invitation. The Rectoress looks at them with distaste that Yennefer hopes is the result of needing help, rather than who the help is coming from, before reluctantly reaching out and grasping them. 

Tissaia leans heavily on her as she steps from the tub, and Yennefer knows that as much as she's trying to act fine that she's still clearly feeling the aftereffects of the dimeritium. She helps the older mage step over the side and into the fresh tub, lowering her into the hot water. Tissaia hisses as she leans back, her eyes closed and expression tight. Yennefer considers asking if she's alright, but Tissaia beats her to it.

"I'm fine."

Yennefer closes her mouth and swallows the words she was just about to say. Tissaia cracks one eye open and looks over at her.

"You're awfully concerned about my well being." Yennefer isn't sure what to say to that, because it's true, but it also feels like it leaves her exposed and vulnerable. "It's very sweet," Tissaia says after a moment, and the softness of her voice and the way her eyes skate away from Yennefer's after she speaks causes a hint of a smile to bloom at the edges of the younger woman's mouth. So it isn't just her feeling unsure of how to do...whatever it is they're doing now. 

"Do you want me to help wash you?"

Tissaia frowns a little, obviously not thrilled with the insinuation that she can't wash herself, but eventually nods. Yennefer grabs the sponge from the side of the tub and wets it, adding a few drops from the soap vial and lathering it. 

"Lean forward." She tries to keep the words from sounding bossy or demanding, and she must have been at least somewhat successful because Tissaia leans forward without complaint. 

The long plane of her back makes Yennefer's mouth go dry. She clears her throat awkwardly and averts her eyes even though Tissaia can't see her staring. It's an entirely new sensation, to be unsure of herself when it comes to clothing being off. 

"On second thought, maybe I should wash your hair first," she says, trying to cover her unease. "That way I don't scrub your skin and then rinse a bunch of fresh dirt over you by doing your hair after."

"Why Yennefer, if I didn't know any better I'd think you're feeling a bit shy."

"Not shy," Yennefer says quickly. "Just...reminding myself this is a bath and nothing more. No matter how much I might wish otherwise." The last bit comes out under her breath, but she knows Tissaia has heard her by the way the older woman's shoulder blades tense for the briefest of seconds.

"And why can't it be more?" The words nearly make Yennefer choke on her next breath. She was _not_ expecting Tissaia to keep playing along. "Surely not because Triss is there. I'd imagined you might enjoy a bit of an audience, now and then."

Yennefer swallows hard and forces herself to ignore the insinuation that Tissaia has _imagined_ her like this. She raises her eyes to the ceiling and begs the gods for the patience and self-control to get through this bath without losing her mind.

"Because you're not fully recovered yet. No, don't argue," she says, when Tissaia inevitably opens her mouth to protest. "You're not, and it's obvious by the fact that you're allowing me to help you bathe, if nothing else. And I have far too many plans that require you to be at your best to risk delaying your healing by acting impulsively now."

"So you've finally learned some self control." The bite of the words is erased by the breathy tone they're spoken in.

"No. I've simply developed an appreciation for delayed gratification," Yennefer says with a smirk. "Now lean your head back so I can wash your hair."

Tissaia complies and Yennefer pours a stream of water over her head, wetting the hair. A dollop of scented soap and oil lathers the fine strands in seconds, and Yennefer lets her nails scratch along the older mage's scalp. The resulting hum sends a spike of heat straight to her core as Tissaia arches her back and presses into Yennefer's hands.

Tamping down the desire raging through her, Yennefer rinses the soap from the other woman's hair before lathering it a second time. She tells herself it's only because she wants to make sure Tissaia is fully cleaned, but she knows that's a lie. If she's honest, she just wants to hear and feel the way the Rectoress melts in her hands again. 

The thought flashes through her mind that if this is how responsive the older mage is to having her hair washed then she's going to be an exquisite lover. A moan almost breaks free of Yennefer's throat as she imagines the many ways she could test exactly how sensitive Tissaia apparently is, but she bites it back and rinses the soap a second time.

Moving on to Tissaia's back, she grasps the sponge once more and drags it over delicate skin. As the grime and sweat are cleaned away, she's surprised to see a smattering of scars become visible. Some are small, clearly minor injuries in the grand scheme of things, but there are a few that give her pause. 

One on the back of her ribcage looks to be from an arrow or something equally barbed. Another higher up on her shoulder blade is even larger—a knife, perhaps. The thought of someone stabbing Tissaia makes Yennefer feel alternating bursts of hot rage and cold terror. Without thinking she leans forward and presses her lips against the scar. A strangled sound escapes Tissaia's lips at the contact.

"Yennefer." There's a warning in the way the Rectoress utters her name, but the younger mage doesn't leave her position. Now that she's closer to Tissaia, can feel her skin under her lips, it's like a magnet. She can't bring herself to pull away. 

She mouths at the scar, pressing a line of tender kisses up the shoulder blade and to the curve of Tissaia's neck, where she nips at the flesh. A quiet moan greets her actions, and Tissaia tilts her head to the side to give Yennefer more room to work. Pulling on the last reserves of her self control, Yennefer forces herself to halt her ministrations and buries her face in the curve of Tissaia's neck.

"Tease." It's a breathy whisper, but she can hear the smile in it and it makes Yennefer chuckle. She places a final kiss at the juncture where Tissaia's neck meets her shoulder and pulls back, grabbing the sponge.

"Just building the suspense so you don't run away on me."

The words aren't planned, and there's more truth in them than she'd like. The thought that Tissaia wants this _—_ wants _her—_ still feels foreign and unbelievable. After so many years of assuming the Rectoress viewed her as nothing more than a disappointing failure, it's an abrupt shift to suddenly believe that she's been wanted all along.

Tissaia twists around so that she can see Yennefer. The younger mage is biting her lip and looks lost, and Tissaia reaches out with one hand to gently cup her cheek.

"No more running."

The statement eases Yennefer's anxiety enough for her to nod. She turns her head and places a soft kiss on the palm of Tissaia's hand before gesturing for her to turn back around.

"Let me finish washing you."

She makes quick work of the rest of Tissaia's back and arms. Thankfully Tissaia says that she can wash her front, sparing Yennefer the agony of touching without being able to do everything she wants to. The water in the tub is a light muddy brown by the time they're done, and Yennefer helps Tissaia stand and step out of the tub. 

As her feet land on the stone floor, her legs buckle and the only thing that keeps her from falling are Yennefer's arms around her. Yennefer keeps holding on even when she can feel that Tissaia's legs are steady once more, just enjoying the feel of how perfectly the older woman tucks against her body. Their height difference is perfect, somehow, and the soft press of curves against her makes her eyes darken with want. 

She moves to step away to go find a fresh sleeping gown for Tissaia, but the other woman pulls her back by the wrist. Yennefer looks down at her and can't think of anything more beautiful than Tissaia, alive and smiling coyly at her with damp curls framing her face. 

Tissaia slides her hand up Yennefer's arm and around to the back of her neck, pulling her down for a kiss. It's different, this time. When Yennefer had kissed Tissaia the first time, it had been out of desperation and not knowing how to make the other mage understand what she was feeling. It had been careful and gentle, in no small part because of how weak Tissaia had been. But this kiss now? It's pure heat. 

Sharp teeth nip at Yennefer's bottom lip and the sting is soothed away by Tissaia's tongue seconds later. Yennefer presses harder into the smaller woman, one hand coming to rest in the small of Tissaia's back to hold her close while the other reaches up to cradle the back of her head. 

In this single kiss, Yennefer feels more than she thinks she's ever experienced in all her years of seduction. Her head swims with the sheer _want_ , and it's not helping matters that there's a quiet mewling sound coming from Tissaia. She breaks the kiss with a gasp but doesn't move away.

"You are _not_ making it easy to be responsible," she growls, her eyes purple-black as she stares down at Tissaia. The smaller woman meets her gaze, her own blue eyes blacked out with desire.

"Maybe being responsible is overrated," she retorts, stretching up on her toes to capture Yennefer's lips again. Yennefer is almost lost in the kiss when she feels Tissaia's hand drift down from her neck to rest on her chest, and she does step back this time. 

"I think I've corrupted you," she says with a breathless laugh. "Or have you always been this incorrigible and I've just never known till now?"

Tissaia pouts at her, but Yennefer ignores her and goes to the wardrobe, rummaging through it for a sleeping gown and tossing it to the other mage. Tissaia slips it on without comment before looking at the bed. 

Yennefer follows her eye line and realizes with a start that Triss is still there. A blush creeps up the back of her neck as she recalls their position seconds earlier. She thanks the gods that Triss is apparently the heaviest sleeper she's ever known, because the thought of her waking to see them twined together makes a spark of possessiveness unfurl in her stomach. 

"Triss. Wake up."

The healer stirs as Yennefer gently prods her. 

"Is everything okay?" she murmurs sleepily.

"It's fine, but you're in Tissaia's bed."

Triss sits bolt upright and her eyes scan the room before landing on Tissaia. 

"You're awake!" She's in front of Tissaia in an instant, fingers gently prodding to find Tissaia's pulse. "How do you feel?"

"More alive than expected," Tissaia says wryly. She lets the healer lead her over to the bed, and Triss fixes her with a stern look.

"You're not to leave this bed until I say so. Your body is still recovering, and it needs rest."

"I'll make sure she behaves," Yennefer says, putting on her best innocent face. "Why don't you go finish your nap? I think Tissaia will be sleeping shortly anyways."

Triss shoots Yennefer a grateful smile. "Okay. I'll come back this evening to check on you two."

She leaves the room, and Yennefer is alone with Tissaia. She starts to sit down in the chair but Tissaia makes an unhappy sound in her throat. She pats the bed next to her with an expectant look and Yennefer laughs.

"Presumptuous, aren't you?" But she climbs onto the bed and settles next to Tissaia, tucking the smaller woman into her side. "I'd warn you not to let your hands wander, but I don't think I'll have to worry about that just yet," she teases, and gets a sleepy disgruntled snort in response. She feels Tissaia relax into her arms, and can't help pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. 

"Sleep now. I'll be here when you wake."

Tissaia's breathing evens out into the steady rhythm of slumber, but Yennefer fights to keep her own eyes open a little longer. She wants to memorize this moment and keep it forever. But eventually, the events of the past few days catch up to her, her eyes slip closed as she snuggles closer to Tissaia, and sleep claims her.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> (I have a longer fic with these two all mapped out that is a big departure from canon starting with Rinde. So keep an eye out if that's something you're interested in!)


End file.
